


Special Teams

by Aderam



Category: Flashpoint
Genre: Banter, Boredom breeds togetherness, Gen, Hockey, I kinda miss the NHL okay, Team Bonding, Yuletide 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 19:17:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aderam/pseuds/Aderam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Hockey the Special Teams are a subset of the Roster which are trained to deal with specific types of game play. In particular power plays and penalty kills when teams are not playing at even strength.</p>
<p>Or</p>
<p>
  <i>“Greg informs me that we’re a family,” Ed bellowed in the men’s locker room as they were packing up their things. Jules could hear him clearly from the hallway. “So we need to spend some quality time together. And we’ve been spending far too much of that time sober, my friends.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Teams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [windandthestars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/gifts).



> Set in Season 3. I know you asked for angst, dear recipient, and I was going to add some into the conversation. But then the finale happened and I couldn’t bring myself to do it – I don’t think my heart could’ve taken any more. So here’s some happy Jules-centric Team!fic instead. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Many Thanks to H for the beta!

When Jules had joined the SRU she’d expected that it would be hard, and painful, and downright awesome. What she hadn’t expected was that sometimes it was also brain-meltingly boring. To most people, she supposed, a full week without any serious violent incidents would have been a good thing. But after a week where the most excitement the team had faced was an easy training exercise, a call-out where the subject had taken one look at their guns and literally pissed himself, and Jules having to use all of her negotiating skills to talk Spike out of stabbing himself in the eye out of sheer boredom, all she wanted was a nice, hot call. Nothing too complicated or emotionally trying, naturally. They’d had far too much of that in recent months. But, strange as it might seem, Jules actually liked her job, and she couldn’t do it when the entire city of Toronto was conspiring to be nice to each other.

They didn’t get a hot call.

Instead they got Ed ordering them all, including the boss-man, to the bar for a night of team bonding.

“Greg informs me that we’re a family,” Ed bellowed in the men’s locker room as they were packing up their things. Jules could hear him clearly from the hallway. “So we need to spend some quality time together. And we’ve been spending far too much of that time sober, my friends.”

The boys were generally grumbling their agreement in the background along with some token noises of protest, and Jules could see a sock - probably Wordy’s - sailing by Ed’s head as he walked past the door to the locker room.

“Hey!” he protested back at the sock’s origin, but there was a grin on his face as he caught sight of Jules still lingering in the hall. He raised an officious eyebrow at her as he stooped to retrieve the wayward sock. “That means you too, princess,” the twinkle in his eye daring her to comment on the choice of nickname. “Grab your paper bag! We’re heading to the Dragon!”

“Aye, sir!” Jules smiled back at him. Ed winked at her and lobbed the sock back at its owner with practiced aim. She could hear Wordy’s protests all the way into the ladies’ locker room.

\--

The Green Dragon was an old style Irish pub about a five minute walk from HQ and it was a favourite haunt for most of the SRU teams. They had a good selection of beer on tap, they gave a discount whenever the team had been in the news, and the old bartender had a knack for knowing when they needed space. Plus there were complimentary peanuts. Jules had had a dream once where after a mission they’d done their debrief on stools around the Dragon’s bar, while Sam practiced his aim in the back by the dart boards instead of at the HQ’s rifle range. It had been a good dream.

“I can only stay for a couple,” Wordy insisted over Ed’s protests as the waiter set down their first pitcher and the boss man’s ginger ale. “It’s movie night and I promised Shell and the girls I’d be home for dinner.”

“What movie is it this time?” Sam asked grinning in anticipation while he poured the first round.

“No, let us guess,” Ed interrupted and Wordy rolled his eyes. “The Proposal? Shelly and Soph were talking about that at the barbeque, right?”

“Nope,” Wordy replied with a smile, accepting a glass from Sam.

“Pride and Prejudice,” Greg suggested from the other end of the table, a note of teasing amusement in his voice.

“Good choice, Boss,” Spike said leaning forward in his chair, “BBC mini-series or the new movie?”

“Does it really matter?” Ed asked.

“Hell yes, it does,” Wordy pointed out fervently. “That mini-series is about six hours longer.”

“And Colin Firth is way dreamier than that other guy,” Spike added hiding his dimples behind his beer glass.

“Damn straight!” Jules agreed and clinked her glass against his in solidarity while Ed shrugged in acquiescence.

“So, what’s the movie?” Sam asked bringing them all back to the point.

“No way,” Wordy replied leaning comfortably back in his chair. “It’s way more fun listening to you guys making fools of yourselves. You’re nowhere near close.”

“Come on!” Sam cajoled.

“I haven’t heard any guesses from you yet, Braddock,” Ed smirked and kicked him lightly under the table.

“Fine,” Sam agreed. “The Notebook.”

Jules nearly choked on her beer, “The Notebook?” she asked incredulously.

“I have sisters,” he defended.

“This is just embarrassing,” Wordy said shaking his head.

“Have pity on us, Mr. Wordsworth,” the boss man asked, grin spread across his face. “What film will be gracing your screen tonight?”

“That’s no fair,” Wordy accused leaning forward and pointing a finger down the table at Greg. “You know I can never resist when you call me ‘Mr. Wordsworth’.”

“Word-y,” Jules wheedled before he could sidetrack the conversation again.

“Fine,” he allowed setting his beer down on the table and looking around at all of them intently. “But for the record, you all know nothing about raising girls and are so far off, it’s pitiful.”

“Alright, Mr. Expert, it’s on the record,” Ed agreed. “Now what the hell is the movie?”

Wordy just smirked and took another sip of beer, “Die Hard,” he said.

“Die Hard?” Spike parroted incredulously, his face scrunching up in confusion.

“Hey!” Jules said punching him solidly in the arm. “Girls can like action movies.”

“I know!” he replied hurriedly raising his hands to placate her amid laughter from the others. “I just mean - Die Hard - it’s a Christmas movie.”

“Best Christmas movie ever!” Sam agreed and raised his hand for a high-five across the table, while Jules rolled her eyes.

“To be fair, I think Sarah is more interested in Bruce Willis than the action,” Wordy pointed out while Spike shook out his stinging hand, grinning. “Although god only knows why.”

“What’s not to like?” Jules asked with an evil grin. “Die Hard was before he went bald, so there’s that.”

“Juliana Callaghan,” Ed said shaking his head in disappointment, “that was a low blow.”

Jules’ only reply was to toss a complimentary peanut in his direction.

\--

They drank a lot. Ed kept ordering pitchers and trying to keep Wordy distracted from both the time and the amount of beer Ed had been pouring in his glass. And the boss man sat quietly at the end of the table watching them all get drunker with great amusement that he probably thought was concealed. It’s a good way to end the week, Jules thought. And she was happy, even at the end of the most boring week ever, to be hanging out with her boys. It reminded her of comfortable family dinners when her Mum was still in the kitchen and all four of her brothers were talking all over each other to be heard while her father huffed in laughter from the head of the table.

When seven o’clock rolled around Sam remembered that he promised to call his-father-the-General tonight. Even Ed knew better than to try to convince him to stay, so they sent him off with a friendly slap on his back and the usual chorus of goodbyes. Once Sam had wobbled off on his bicycle into the January snow, Wordy couldn’t pretend that Ed was actually fooling him anymore and he begged off as well. Greg offered to drive and threatened Ed with having to take a cab if he didn’t come now.

“And I refuse to listen to you bitching about the cabbie’s driving tomorrow,” Greg warned already standing and shrugging into his coat.

Ed didn’t budge quite yet, pointedly ignoring Greg’s hand on his shoulder and instead choosing to raise a questioning eyebrow at the current pitcher which was still more than half full on the table in front of him. Greg rolled his eyes, anticipating as ever Ed’s course of action.

“Spike, Jules,” Ed said transferring the eyebrow from the pitcher to the two remaining members of team one. Spike was already grinning, but Jules wasn’t really sure if it was because of the beer and the atmosphere or because he had any idea about what was coming next. “Special assignment. I know you’re up to the task,” his voice was serious and Jules tried valiantly to keep a straight face. “I need you,” he paused for dramatic effect, “to finish this pitcher.”

Spike was already leaning over and giggling, so Jules agreed for them. “Yessir!” she said as seriously as she could manage – which admittedly wasn’t very – sketching a sloppy two fingered salute with her right hand.

Ed nodded and wobbled slightly as he got out of his chair, but his hands were steady on the pitcher as he topped up their glasses before putting on his coat.

“Have a good weekend, kids,” he said smiling widely. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Dangerous words,” Wordy cautioned from behind Greg.

“Don’t worry,” Jules said, “we know better. See you Monday.”

“Cheers guys,” Spike echoed, and the other three murmured their goodbyes before Ed led them out of the bar.

With the others gone that left Jules and Spike on the same side of the table and she thought briefly about shifting into Ed’s abandoned chair so she’d be facing her teammate. But the bench was comfortable and Spike was warm leaning slightly against her shoulder and she could see the early game starting up on the television over the bar.

Spike followed her gaze and tilted his glass slightly towards the television for emphasis, “You been following the season?” he asked.

Jules shrugged in response. “Here and there,” she said. “It’s kinda hard not to. Besides they’re winning, it’s keeping everyone in a good mood.”

“Don’t worry,” Spike said resignedly, “It won’t last.”

Jules laughed while shoving reprovingly at his shoulder and watched his answering smile. “You are the most pessimistic Leafs fan I’ve ever met,” she announced. “And that’s saying something.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been a Leafs fan since I was six, I have lots of personal experience to draw on.”

On the TV the puck had dropped. It was an away game and the Maple Leafs were in Phoenix, their white away sweaters streaking across the screen after the Coyotes’ black and maroon. The play was whistled down after a puck was deflected over the glass and Spike nudged Jules’ shoulder again.

“Hey, do you think that the Leafs winning has anything to do with our current dry spell?” he asked with a small grin.

Jules snorted, “All the Leafs fans are too busy planning the parade to get into trouble?” she smirked at Spike out of the corner of her mouth while watching as the play started up again. “Should I be hoping for them to start losing again?”

Spike tossed a peanut at her and she batted it out of the air before it hit her in the face and grinned unrepentantly back at him.

“You are a terrible person,” he announced. “Wishing ill on a man’s team like that; it’s just cruel.”

“You were just saying the same thing,” she retorted lobbing a retaliatory peanut in his direction.

“And it’s my right as a long suffering fan,” Spike replied, ignoring the projectile with the ease of long practice.

Jules rolled her eyes and looked back at the game. The Coyotes were breaking into the Leafs zone. “How did you start watching hockey anyway? I thought your Dad was a soccer fan,” she asked without moving her eyes from the play.

“He is,” Spike replied taking another sip of his beer. On the TV the Leafs’ Captain, Dion Phaneuf, was exchanging words with the ref while skating over to the penalty box. “Come on!” Spike exclaimed gesturing expansively at the TV while the replay clearly demonstrated Phaneuf’s hook on Sami Lepisto.

Jules refrained from commenting and instead hid her grin in her beer glass.

Spike scowled at the game while the two teams set up for a face-off to the right of the Leafs’ net. The commentator was still talking about both teams’ recent stats on the power play and penalty kill – which surprisingly actually favoured Toronto – when the linesman dropped the puck. Phoenix won the face-off and sent the puck immediately back to their defencemen who tossed it effortlessly back and forth a few times before Whitney found Vrbata with an opening. Vrbata tapped the puck in under Reimer’s glove and it was 1-0 for the Coyotes.

Spike swore and glared over at Jules. “Now look what you’ve done,” he said mock-accusatory. “When we lose it’s going to be all your fault!”

Jules laughed in response unable to hide her amusement. “This is why people say Leafs fans are reactionary and dramatic,” she pointed out while Phaneuf skated morosely out of the penalty box. “It’s one goal. And we’re only two minutes into the game.”

“Hockey is a game of volatile emotions,” Spike defended himself.

“Trust me,” Jules replied. “I know. All four of my brothers played hockey. I think I spent most of my childhood at the rink.”

“You didn’t play?” Spiked asked nudging his shoulder angst hers. “I can picture you taking out guys twice your size.”

“Damn straight,” Jules agreed with a grin. “And I did, playing road hockey and shinny. But I never played in a league. Mum only let us do one after school activity because there were so many of us.”

“And which one did you pick?” he asked, smiling.

“Modern dance,” Jules answered unrepentantly.

“Fly like a butterfly?” Spike grinned and Jules shoved hard at his shoulder.

They continued watching the game companionably for the next few minutes before Jules turned back to Spike, who flinched exaggeratedly.

Jules rolled her eyes. “You never answered my question,” she said.

“What?”

“I asked how you became a Leafs fan,” she reminded him, “but then we were interrupted.”

“Oh right,” Spike said. “You’re right. None of my family pay any attention to hockey. Hell some of my Italian relatives have barely even heard of the sport. But my Dad signed me up to play when I was six.”

“Really?” Jules asked, nearly doing a spit take with her beer. 

“Yeah,” Spike acknowledged with a small shrug. “This may come as a shock, but I was kind of an awkward kid.”

“No way,” Jules teased.

“Shut up,” he replied. “Anyway my Dad wanted me to get along better with the Canadian boys and couldn’t think of anything more Canadian than hockey. The other boys got me watching the Leafs. I lasted a year of Tyke and two of Atom before I got bored. Not enough explosions.”

Jules rolled her eyes and Spike shrugged in response.

“Still like watching it though.”

“Tell me there are pictures of tiny Spike in hockey gear,” Jules asked leaning into his space.

“I am never letting you speak to my mother again,” he retorted.

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

“You’ll see,” Spike taunted and reached over to top up Jules’ glass. She smiled and turned her attention back to the game.

Phoenix didn’t score again in the first but neither did Toronto; Ilya Bryzgalov shut the door despite the Coyotes taking three more penalties to round out the first.

Spike reached an arm across the table to tap at the empty jug in front of Jules as the first intermission started up.

“Should we get another one?” he asked, eyebrow raised in question.

Jules squinted accusingly at the pitcher and tried to come up with a good reason why they shouldn’t. There were still two more periods of hockey to watch, it had started snowing outside – thankfully sometime after Sam and his bicycle would have arrived at his apartment – and they weren’t even on call the next day.

“Well,” she said evenly, tilting her head to the side and smirking slightly at her companion, “our last instruction was not to do anything Ed wouldn’t do.”

“Leave a game before it’s over?” Spike suggested.

“Ed would never,” Jules agreed.

Spike grinned. “We wouldn’t want to disappoint our team leader,” he said and flagged down their waiter.

Later – after the pitcher had been consumed, and the Coyotes had solidly trounced the Leafs in the third period to win the game 5-1, and Spike had sworn colourfully in Italian – Jules shoved her hands in her pockets to keep them warm while she and Spike waited outside for the streetcar that would take them toward their respective houses. Spike was still warm at her side and their breath plumed in the cold night air.

“Who’s on call tonight?” Spike asked, leaning down into her space.

“I think it’s team three,” Jules answered. “Why?”

“I’ll bet you twenty bucks they’ve already got a hot call,” he smirked at her, the corner of his mouth barely visible over the top of his scarf.

“Because the Leafs lost?” Jules laughed.

“Hockey is a game of volatile emotions, you know,” he replied.

Jules kept laughing until the streetcar pulled to a stop and opened its doors for them. Spike looked smug.

Contrary to expectations, brain-meltingly boring wasn’t actually all that bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Season three of Flashpoint is roughly concurrent with the 2010-2011 NHL season. The Leafs played the Coyotes in Phoenix on Thursday, January 13th, 2011. I didn’t watch that game (for I am neither a Leafs nor a Coyotes fan) but there are still summaries and highlights up at NHL.com despite the lockout. If you’d like to see Radim Vrbata’s goal on James Reimer you can find it [ here](http://www.nhl.com/ice/boxscore.htm?id=2010020651), just click on the video camera icon next to the listing for his first period goal. Toronto hadn’t allowed a power-play goal in five games and Phoenix hadn’t scored on the power-play in seven. Full highlights and a recap can also be found [here](http://www.nhl.com/ice/recap.htm?id=2010020651). This was Reimer’s rookie season as a goaltender and at the time he was Toronto’s latest great hope. He’d won his last three starts, but let in four goals on twenty shots (not good). The win for Phoenix broke Toronto’s four game winning streak. If Toronto had won it would have been their first four-game winning streak on the road since 2000. Thank you random sports facts.
> 
> For those of you unfamiliar with hockey, when a player breaks the rules he (or she) gets a penalty and has to sit in the penalty box. This means that for the duration of the penalty (usually 2min) the penalized team is one player short. This is called a penalty kill for the penalized team, which generally will only have four players on the ice, and a power-play for the opposition, which gets to keep the regular five.


End file.
